


Broken

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Romana</p><p>Dayna has been captured and isn't talking, yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

Dayna was thrust roughly into the room; her hands were secured behind her back, her clothes were torn and filthy and she bore the unmistakeable marks of having been enthusiastically 'questioned'. Servalan looked up and smiled. Physically she was not imposing, not tall or powerfully built, but she radiated power and authority. Her short black hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her light brown eyes were cruel, but that didn't detract from her cold, statuesque beauty. She stood and walked around her desk to stand in front of her prisoner.

"Leave us." she snapped without even looking at the guard standing stiffly to attention behind the young woman. The guard strode quickly from the room leaving the President alone with the rebel. Servalan grasped Dayna's chin firmly between her thumb and forefinger, turning her face to study the dark bruises marking her right cheek.

"Such a shame," she whispered pulling Dayna's face back and staring into her eyes, "You are so much prettier without the bruises." Dayna glared and spat at her, not trusting herself to speak. Servalan slapped her, forcefully enough to knock her off balance. As her hands were tied, she was unable to steady herself and crashed to the floor.

"I think you need to be reminded exactly who is in charge." Servalan stepped back and leaned against the desk, casually adjusting her long, white, evening dress so that the split revealed her firm thigh, a knee-high, white stiletto boot and more importantly the handle of the large knife tucked into the top of it. "Get up." She instructed.

Dayna struggled to her feet under Servalan's appraising gaze and stood, looking into the distance, refusing to acknowledge her captor. A smile spread slowly over the President's face, at least she wasn't going to make this too easy. With the concentration of a scientist observing a fascinating specimen, Servalan watched her captive. Her strong, athletic body easily discernable under the tight jumpsuit. What was visible of Dayna's rich, chocolate skin was marked with the bruises and cuts of her recent interrogations, but this didn't make her appear vulnerable. Her dark eyes glittered with the passion of hatred, her face set with proud disdain.

 

Servalan closed the distance between them and seized the front of Dayna's jumpsuit, tearing it open to the waist. Roughly she grasped Dayna's throat, forcing her head back, her grip indicating that struggling would not be a good idea. With her left hand she pulled the shoulder of the suit down Dayna's arm, revealing her right shoulder and breast. Gently she kissed the base of Dayna's throat, lightly sucking and caressing her collar bone with her tongue. She slipped left hand between the suit and Dayna's back, stroking her and pulling her closer as she kissed along the bare shoulder, nipping with her teeth, but carefully avoiding the painful, hot bruise that she had uncovered. She felt Dayna try to pull away and tightened her grip on her throat. When she felt Dayna relax again, her grip slackened slightly.

 

Dayna tried to focus on her hatred of the woman kissing and nibbling at her shoulder. She was tired and in pain and finding it hard to concentrate. She felt the mouth on her trail hot kisses over her breast and gently slip over her nipple. She felt the tongue flick at her. She knew her body was betraying her, could feel her nipple stiffen at the warm embrace of soft lips and insistent tongue. Despite herself, she felt the electric sparks of arousal shoot from the touch through her body. Unable to control her reactions, she closed her eyes and forced herself at least to keep her breathing steady. A mantra playing over and over in her mind: 'Breathe, I hate her, breathe, don't feel it'. The hand stroking her back was withdrawn and she felt cold at the loss of the contact. 'Not good' she acknowledged. The grip at her throat was released and she felt the suit pulled off of her other shoulder. The mouth released her nipple and its caress was replaced by fingers insistently squeezing, teasing, stroking and pulling at the wet nub. The mouth nuzzled at her throat. She was still repeating 'I hate her' over and over, but it was meaning less and less. All she could concentrate on was the touches, the kisses, and the fire that they sent tearing into her, easing the aches and the pains, building up to an unbearable heat, twisting and knotting her stomach. The mouth was moving again. Licking and kissing down her throat. She sighed and pressed her body against the source of her distraction.

 

Servalan smiled against the warm breast she was kissing as she felt the muscles beneath her hands relax and the body that she had been restraining press towards her. She sucked the hard nipple in to her mouth, teasing the tip with her tongue and was rewarded with a low moan. She slipped both of her hands around the body pressing so insistently against her and gently guided Dayna across the office. Taking her shoulders in her hands she pushed her backwards, sending her sprawling onto the low couch, unable to check her fall. Dayna's eyes flew open and she gasped suddenly jerked back to full awareness of where she was and who was with her. Servalan stood over and drew the knife from her boot. Fear was not an emotion that Dayna was used to experiencing, but it gripped her now as she looked up at Servalan, the blade in her hand glinting in the harsh light of the white office. Her fear must have shown in her expression because a cruel smile appeared on the face of her tormentor.

"I wouldn't give me any more ideas." Purred Servalan as she perched on the edge of the couch by Dayna's waist. She slit open the crotch of Dayna's jumpsuit and her underwear, enjoying the obvious trepidation in the other woman. She slid her finger between the lips of Dayna's sex. "Have you no self control?" She gloated, every consonant beautifully ennunciated. " I thought you hated me, that you would rather kill me than even look at me." Servalan slid the tip of her finger inside her, "And yet see how you respond to me." She laughed and thrust her finger deep inside. Dayna gasped. Servalan smiled and stretched her thumb to claim Dayna's clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud as she moved inside her. Dayna's breathing grew ragged. She could not resist the sensations thrilling through her already excited body. She felt herself tense as Servalan slipped another finger inside her. Her hips were moving in time with her enemy's thrusts. Her muscles clenched and her whole body went rigid as she felt herself climax, awash with shame and hatred. Servalan stood and and stared down at her. She walked to the desk and flipped open the communications chanel.

"She'll talk now."


End file.
